


soft words and a little heart

by Padraigen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 21:23:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20378329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Padraigen/pseuds/Padraigen
Summary: Tony breathes shakily, unsure of all the emotions running rampant through him. Joy, fear, excitement, worry, happiness, love. It’s all so overwhelming. “I’d never put you in any real danger, of course. You know that, right? I don’t even know you yet and you already mean more to me than anything. I’ll do anything, giveanything,to protect you. For the rest of my life.”





	soft words and a little heart

It’s when he feels his eyes drooping and his fingers start to falter their grip on the screwdriver that Tony lets out a sigh and says, “FRIDAY, time?”

“It is 1:04 in the AM, sir.”

Tony drops the screwdriver, and it misses the workbench by an inch, clattering to the floor way too loudly for the late (early?) hour. He doesn’t bother picking it up. DUM-E can get it for him; God knows the bot isn’t useful for anything else.

There’s a trickle of shame in the irritated huff he exhales, but it only exacerbates the agitation he feels. He knows he hasn’t been able to concentrate in the past five hours he’s been in the garage, and he knows that’s why he hasn’t been able to accomplish anything of note. Hasn’t been able to for a few weeks now, to tell the truth.

Tony has no idea what he’s doing, and admitting it, even to himself, feels like being dragged through the sand, rope shredding his wrists and making him bleed.

He’s happy, don’t get him wrong. God, he’s probably the happiest he’s ever been, and that troubles him, a little, because how is _anyone_ allowed to be happy in the wake of everything that’s happened, least of all him? He’s struggling with himself, a tug-of-war in his chest pulling his heart in two.

He failed, right? He failed. And the world—no, the entire fucking _universe_—is paying for it, and Steve hasn’t quite managed to convince him that they deserve the second chance they’re getting. (He tries, though. So hard.)

So maybe Tony doesn’t deserve it, but hell if he isn’t going to be grateful for it for the rest of his days. Crazy to think that he might be one of the lucky ones.

Tony pushes up from his workbench, wobbling on the stool until he’s got his feet under him, and calls it a night. He probably shouldn’t, probably needs to keep working—he’s never lacking in things to do; the whole world needs fixing—but there’s something in his mind calling to him. The whispers sound like Steve.

He’s never been able to resist Steve.

So he goes, rubbing at his eyes as he does, and stops suddenly in the kitchen when he notices there’s a lamp on in the living room. His heart does a weird thing in his chest when he realizes that it’s Steve, that he’s still down here, probably waiting for Tony to finish. Just like that, Tony’s agitation is doused, and his smile is the overly soppy kind he used to hate. It’s enough to smother the sliver of guilt rising in him for making Steve stay up when he should definitely be in bed.

Tony pads over to the couch, footsteps light. His smile broadens when he hears Steve’s soft, even breaths and sees his closed eyes, his head tipped back against the couch. He’s got a loose grip on a pen in one hand, and in the other a notepad filled with notes from his support group sessions.

Steve had started leading them when it came time to put down the shield for a while, still filled with the need to help wherever and however he could. But that’s how Steve is, Tony knows, even if he wishes it didn’t take Steve into the city every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Tony lowers himself to his knees in front of Steve, tenderly extracting the pen and notepad from Steve’s hands and setting them on the couch cushion next to Steve. His eyes, inevitably, are drawn to the gentle curve of Steve’s swollen stomach, his chest swelling like it always does when he sees it.

Careful not to disturb Steve’s much-needed and earned rest, Tony lifts the hem of his sweater, nudging it up and out of the way with heedful movements. He settles more comfortably in the space between Steve’s knees and sets his palms on either side of his belly. The baby must be sleeping or otherwise perfectly content where it is because he can’t feel any nudges or prods against his hands. There’s just a bump in Steve’s skin that could be a foot or an elbow for all Tony knows that he brushes his thumb over in an unhurried rhythm.

“Hey, baby,” he mutters, and he tries to be as quiet as possible for Steve’s sake, but he can’t keep the words from coming out. “How’s it going in there? Not too cramped, I hope.” Tony leans in further to brush his lips to the skin right above Steve’s belly button. He means to move back, but he’s exhausted and frankly doesn’t want to be any farther away from Steve and his baby than he absolutely has to be, so he tilts his head forward and rests it on top of Steve’s stomach. He doesn’t use a lot of pressure, not wanting to discomfort Steve.

“Been a long day, huh. You have _no _idea how much I missed you guys this morning. It’s so boring here without you.” Tony smirks as he breathes the words into Steve’s skin. “Maybe you should tell your daddy to just stay here, whaddya think? I think you might have a better chance at convincing him.”

He doesn’t mean it. Not entirely, anyway. Those sessions are one of the only ways Steve has of getting out of the house and interacting with human beings that aren’t Tony. In a couple of weeks he’ll be too far along to do even that.

Of course there are the others. Natasha comes over sometimes, when she’s not running operations. So does Bruce. Rhodey has stopped by when he’s not doing other, important Air Force things. And Pepper’s still one of his best friends, failed relationship aside, and she’s here all the time, always with baby clothes, a crib, a stroller, or a baby book Tony’s never going to read but Steve definitely will—even just out of courtesy—in hand.

Barton—well, Tony likes to pretend he doesn’t know where Barton is or what he’s doing. Likes to pretend he doesn’t see the way Natasha’s skin is always darkening under her eyes. If she does catch his eye, though, and he happens to notice the worry and the sadness that dims them occasionally—well, then sometimes he’ll catch her alone and wrap his arms around her for as long as she’ll allow and promise her that he’s here to help whenever she needs it, and she’ll promise him that she’ll take him up on that sometime.

Thor’s residing in “New Asgard” now, but he and Tony don’t talk much. Or at all, really. Whenever Tony thinks about it, he tells himself he’ll check up on him soon. He never does.

That’s wrong, and he knows it. Maybe he’ll talk to Steve about it. But later.

“I’ve been building things for you, you know. You’re going to be a very spoiled baby. I think my favorite’s gotta be the suit. Obviously. I’m calling it Iron Baby, and it can hover a whole inch off the ground. Daddy says Iron Man suits are too dangerous for babies, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. If there was ever any question about who was going to be the fun dad and who was going to be the boring dad, I think that about answers it. You can tell him that, too.”

Tony breathes shakily, unsure of all the emotions running rampant through him. Joy, fear, excitement, worry, happiness, love. It’s all so overwhelming. “I’d never put you in any real danger, of course. You know that, right? I don’t even know you yet and you already mean more to me than anything. I’ll do anything, give _anything,_ to protect you. For the rest of my life.”

He startles at the fingers that tangle gently in his hair, stroking the back of his head. When he realizes it’s just Steve, he relaxes instantly, feeling calmer than he has all day.

He looks up to Steve smiling at him, his blue eyes filled with the fondness Tony can now recognize is all meant for him. And, God, Tony loves him.

“You promise?” Steve whispers, his words teasing. He knows there was never any question.

Tony smiles back, sure that the adoration he feels is written plainly across his face. That’s okay, though. He trusts Steve with it. “You can put it in writing.”

Steve’s other hand lifts to cover Tony’s where it’s resting on his stomach, and he squeezes lightly. His fingers never falter in their massaging of the back of his head, and he closes his eyes again, urging Tony back into his previous position. Tony goes willingly, uncaring or oblivious to the way his knees are protesting.

They stay like that for Tony doesn’t know how long. In these moments it’s easier to forget about all his worries and doubts, and take them for what Steve keeps trying to tell him they are.

A second chance.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic, and have a moment, I would really appreciate knowing your thoughts in the comments! Thank you very much :)
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://padraigendragon.tumblr.com/)!


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